


Hacienda Motel

by Hermitstull



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 13,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermitstull/pseuds/Hermitstull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel of sorts to the Somewhere in London series. You may want to check that one out first.  They are drabbles at best, rambles at most. The formative years of assassin extraordinaire  HG Wells.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And now they left the city, and a change is coming down

**Author's Note:**

> Seems I can't quite stay away from the killer for hire concept of HG Wells. Again, no promises of consistent updates or correct spelling or sentence structure for this fic. (Seriously. And sorry.)

Good lord, the amount of blood involved. How did people actually do this for a living?

HG scrubbed her hands in the dingy motel bathroom in Yuma, hoping that she wasn’t missing a spot. It was only a trial job and she didn’t’ want to appear unprofessional.

As if there was a code of ethics for killing people.

She supposed there must be, otherwise Damien wouldn’t have approached her. She had killed that first man not quite by accident on the hunt for an artifact. She wasn't an Agent anymore and after delivering the Astrolabe to the Brotherhood she found herself quite at wits end.

Old habits die hard. Ending that bastard’s life felt quite good.

Myka wouldn’t approve. But she was lost to that woman.

Turning off the water she looked herself over in the mirror. Could she do this? Could she make her life as a killer full time?

The red burner phone beeped.  Drying her hands she tapped the screen on and read her contractor’s message.

Her eyebrow’s rose at the amount to be deposited into her bank account tomorrow.

Yes, she did think it would be possible to make a living this way.

Despite what her heart wanted.


	2. Rolls that world right off my shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we don't want those answers we look for.

After working the job with Sylvia in Palm Springs, HG decided it was time for a couple days off.  She had felt a bit frustrated that her rising star was coupled with such a stogy veteran.  But for the kind of job it was she needed an experienced partner to walk her through.

Poisoning. Who knew how complicated it could be?

She had never visited Las Vegas and after talking with Sylvia she decided to give the city a try.  If anything it would allow her to familiarize herself with the location in case any work involving Sin City came her way.

Plus the engineer in her was curious to see this fabled ‘Strip’ for herself. She’d watched Ocean’s Eleven with Pete and Claudia one night and was fascinated with the dancing water fountains at the end of the movie.

It had been several months since she had thought of the Warehouse and her time spent there.  Her final visit had involved Artie, Leena and an even more serious than usual Mrs. Fredric. It was not a happy return, especially when she learned that she had died in another timeline.

She wondered if Myka had ever found out about her sacrifice.

 

 

After watching the Bellagio fountains for several cycles, she decided to wander the street. It was surprising how busy things were for a Wednesday, but she supposed most people were like her on holiday. Coupled with the fact nothing seemed to ever close, what reason was there to stay in your room.

She quite enjoyed the pirate show in front of Treasure Island, despite its theatrics.  Needing a refresher she strolled into the casino proper, selecting a small bar in the corner that gave her an excellent view of the crowd.

“I don’t know Mykes,” an all too familiar voice sent her heart racing. “He’s not giving me any vibes. I think we have the wrong guy.”

“He knows something Pete,” Myka replied, stopping by the elevator bay.  “I’m going to take a walk to clear my head. Call me after you talk to Artie.”

Pete saluted and headed upstairs to his room.

HG held her breath. Part of her hoped not to be noticed, part of her desperately wanted to.

 

Without preamble Myka headed directly for the bar.  Of course the observant Agent had spotted her before she could get away.

“Hello Myka.”

“Helena. This is a surprise.”

“You have no idea,” the Victorian replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“Are you here on Regent business?”

HG almost choked on her drink. Had they not told them, told her, what had happened?

“Um, no.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Myka tried to keep her voice calm.  It had been nearly two years since Sykes. Since that night.

Without a word from Helena.

“I’m on a bit of a holiday,” HG tried to keep her tone light. 

“In Vegas?” Myka scoffed. “This hardly seems like your kind of spot.”

“Well I’ve never been,” HG defended herself.  “And a colleague highly recommended it.”

“Really,” Myka knew there was more too it. “Where have you been Helena? What have the Regents had you doing these past years that keeps you far away from the Warehouse?”

HG swallowed.  This wasn’t a conversation she was ever prepared to have.

“I no longer work for the Regents, or the Warehouse for that matter,” she replied. “They no longer had need of my services after I returned the Astrolabe to the Brotherhood.  I’ve made my own way since then, completing odd jobs of a sort, traveling around the world.”

“What sort of jobs?”

“I’m what they call a problem solver.”

Before Myka could ask for more detail, her cell phone rang. When she moved off to speak to Pete, HG slipped away, quickly leaving the casino.  Within 20 minutes she was back in her rental car heading to Los Angeles.

 

The only light in Myka’s room came from her laptop.  Disappointed. Hurt. Angry. Devastated. Weary. Confused.

Words that covered the emotions she’d experienced in the past two hours after her encounter with Helena. She didn’t tell Pete about what happened. The Agent wasn’t ready to answer his questions or accept his consolation.

Myka kept replaying the conversation in her mind. What had she missed?

Distracted she almost didn’t see the small blurb about the financer found dead in his Palm Springs home.  The man had been in excellent health but had died from a heart attack. The article included a picture from a fundraising event from about a week prior to his death. 

Oh God.

Nauseated, she ran for the bathroom. 

She now understood the kinds of problems Helena now solved.


	3. So I will love you when I can. When I can!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual of reflection.

She packed up the letters, always in order with the most recent on top. She placed the package in another to be sent to her assistant on the way out of Miami. The instructions were to wait two weeks past job completion. If he hadn’t heard from her they were to be sent to the address in South Dakota.

There were now a few years of letters, a dozen, maybe more. She wrote mostly while on the job, musings about her current situation. Thoughts about her target and they what they had done to earn a spot on her ever growing list.

She had no feelings one way or the other about the people she was hunting. She’d killed a man while at dinner with his children. She’d taken out a woman leaving a restaurant on the night of her wedding anniversary. One target was on his way to his college graduation when she ran his car off the road.

Even the worst of people had someone that loved them.

She should know.

There had been plenty of ‘revenge’ or ‘message’ kills as well. Evil men and woman who truly earned their deaths. Sometimes she tried to make those a bit more spectacular. Earning a bit of a reputation as the person who aced the complicated mission.

A job was a job. 

Every now and then, during the late hours of surveillance or after a particularly trying mission, she’d jot down a quick note to Myka not about what she was doing, but about what she was feeling. It was hard to catalog those thoughts, since they were few and only came out at the worst of times.

It was almost as if those times at the Warehouse were a fantasy, some dream world that she had once visited, long ago and far away. She often wondered if the feelings that she had for Myka, had always had for Myka, were for the woman or for the situation she had found herself in.

She truly did enjoy the life she now led. Her keen mind reveled in the detailed planning jobs took. The thrill of the chase. The satisfaction of a task well done.

And the money, lest we forget, more than she could ever use in her lifetime.

She would never be completely healed from the events of Paris. Perhaps it was Christina’s death that allowed her to thrive in such a dark world. Or perhaps she was finally living up to her full potential. 

Either way, this day in April always brought out her sentimental side.

And she hoped that Quebec would be agreeable. The task ahead would be quite daunting, even for the great HG Wells.


	4. And don’t forget you could be laughing 65% more of the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada, part 1.

HG adjusted the blue scarf around her neck as she entered the small coffee shop. She’d been in Quebec three weeks in preparation for the job. It was just after New Year’s and the city was making preparation for Winter Carnival. It would be the best opportunity to approach her target, a city administrator from Ouaga, Quebec’s sister city in Burkina Faso.   At least that was is public façade.  In truth he was a rising crime boss in West Africa and the current crime lord in charge didn’t take kindly to the competition.

Her best chance would be either from a distance during the closing ceremonies or at the massive Masquerade Ball at the Chateau Frontena half way through the celebration.  It all would depend on when the man actually arrived in the city. His travel plans had changed several times in the past week.

She wondered if her informant had been found out.

Sipping her tea, she looked out onto the busy street. It was Friday and many of the tourists in this part of Charlesbourg were headed to the newly opened Ice Hotel. 

Perhaps a bit of dancing would help clear her mind.

 

HG prowled through the trendy night club, restless but not sure what would sooth her. She’d been here for about an hour, quietly observing and turning down offers to dance.  It was her third gin and tonic, just enough to unleash her reckless side. 

Perhaps it was time to accept an offer to dance. The music wasn’t her taste but you couldn’t exactly call the gyrations she was witnessing dance either.

A shadow fell across her table. 

 

She slowly opened her eyes, willing the roar in her head to quiet. She was in a bed, a hard yet comfortable bed in a cold room.  There was a form next to her.  Female, young, slender with an unruly mop of brown hair.  Pale skin peeked out from the blanket. She was without clothes as was HG.

The Victorian remembered now. Samantha was here with her roommate, visiting the roommate’s family before the pair headed back to Law school at Southern Methodist.  She had struck up a conversation last night that had lead to the dance floor that had ended in this bed.

“It’s true, some things do get better with age.”

HG looked over Samantha, now awake.

“You have no idea,” HG smirked as Samantha leaned in agave her a kiss.

“So I suppose this is it.”

“Yes.”

HG pulled back the covers and began to gather her clothes. They were freezing-this was a hotel made of ice-but she put them on quickly. A distraction like this, even for one night, could put the entire operation in jeopardy.

“It was fun though,” HG said finally as she finished dressing.

“Yes, yes it was.”

 

Samantha leaned back with a sigh. She had meant every word she had said to the other woman. It was a night that would linger with her for quite some time.

Her orange phone began to ring. Without looking she hit speaker.

“It’s her. You were right.”

“Does she suspect?” an male voice replied.

“No, not a thing,” Samantha paused. “It’s funny, for her reputation I’m surprised things went so smoothly last night. She seemed distracted.”

“Kid, don’t be fooled. She earned her mark for a reason.”

“Mark or not,” she grinned, “she will die just like they all do.”


	5. Wait until the weekend and we can make our bad dreams come true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada pt 2.

“Mykes is place is AWESOME!”

Myka smiled at her partner’s never ending exuberance. She had to admit that the Ice Hotel was pretty cool. No pun intended.

They had been in Quebec for a couple of days tracking a Bonhomme cap and ceinture fleche that would turn the wearer into a snowman. Without the Frosty happy ending.

Winter Carnival was in full swing which was making the hunt difficult. Artie had finally agreed to send Claudia to help. They would head out to the airport to pick her up after this interview.

It was middle of the day so the Ice Hotel wasn’t very busy. The dance club wouldn’t be open for hours which gave them the perfect opportunity to speak with the manager.

 

As they waited and Pete rattled on about igloos Myka scanned the area.  Since arriving in Quebec, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched.  She had been debating whether or not to tell Pete, to see if he had been getting any strange vibes, but couldn’t quite bring herself to ask. She didn’t think it was someone involved in the artifact based killings but she couldn’t be sure.

Perhaps on the way to the airport she’d let him know.

 

Samantha watched the two American Secret Service Agents follow the manger back to his office. Her support team had given the young killer a heads up that they were in town on a completely unrelated matter. But surprise elite law enforcement could lead to unexpected complications so she’d been tailing them for a day or so, trying to figure out just what they were looking for.

Her alluring target was lying low after their night together.  Samantha didn’t think that her fellow assassin had discovered her real reason for being in Quebec, but you could never be too careful in this business.

 

“Well that was another dead end,” Pete grumbled as they headed back to the car.

“At least we know this was the last stop Simon made before he became a snowman.” Myka replied. “We need to figure out if the women he was seen dancing with know anything.”

“Well from what the manager saw they definitely didn’t leave with him.” Pete smiled.

“But they haven’t been here since. Which makes this harder if they were tourists.” She countered.

“Hopefully Claude can scrounge up some surveillance footage from that night.”  Pete opened the driver’s side door. “How long do we have before her flight lands?”

“Plenty of time for you to stop and get a snack.” Myka replied, complete with eye roll.

 

“Bollocks,” HG cursed under her breath as she watched the Warehouse Agents pull away.   As soon as she read the story about people turning into snowmen it was only a manner of time before someone came.  She had hoped Myka would be not one of them.

She couldn’t afford the distraction of an artifact while on the job.  The one night stand was bad enough. 

On top of that she learned this morning that Damien had been killed.  She felt sadness at the loss of her first friend in the business but also concern about others in Damien’s circle. She would have to contact Sylvia, Raul and Yuri to see if they knew anything.

Canada was well on its way to becoming a clusterfuck.


	6. We are your friends, you'll never be alone again, come on.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada pt 3.

HG gritted her teeth.  The strength of the bass line in the dance music blasting from a nearby speaker had set her entire body on edge.  The target had arrived three days ago and it had been a not stop tour of bars and clubs with his entourage.  She’d decided that the hit would happen at the Masquerade Ball in two days.

If only poison could be an option this time.

She was at her fourth bar of the night, another trendy spot filled with the prettiest of people currently in the city. HG had spotted at least three minor celebrities and one Montreal Canadian since her arrival what felt like ages ago.

Good looks and charm worked just as well in this century and she’d been able to secure a vantage point just next to the VIP section.  She had become quite adapt at refusing drinks and other offers over the past few days, but her patience had been stretched to the limit this night.

She felt the white phone vibrate and pulled it out of the small clutch.  Yuri and Sylvia and replied that they had heard rumors of a hit list of Damien’s close associates being on the market. It was in bad form to kill others in her profession, especially without provocation.

She was waiting to hear back from Raul who was going to dig a little deeper into things. It appeared he now had an answer.

HG groaned as she read the lengthy text. Raul had discovered that there was a hit placed on Damien because a job he completed three years ago in Dallas. Seems the target had a brother who was out for a little vengeance. 

It had been the second complete job she’d worked.

“Lovely,” she shut the screen off.  That meant that she too, was under threat.  Raul was able to find out that the contract on her had been picked up by the same group that had handled Damien.

Well at least it wasn’t the first time she’d been the hunted.  Eluding the Regents certainly did make for a good training.

She might have to escalate the time table on her target.  Dramatically.

HG reached into her clutch to grab her compact.  Time to turn on the charm once more.

 

“I almost didn’t believe it when I checked the surveillance from the hotel.”  HG’s head shot up at Claudia’s voice. “But then Myka told us what you did for a living now and it made sense.”

“Claudia,” HG swallowed. “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy,” the young woman grinned and sat down on the bar stool across from her.  “I’d like to think I had a hand in that.”

“You certainly did.”

“Good.” Claudia leaned in. “I tapped into CTV across the city and linked it with a NSA facial recognition program I borrowed a few months back.”

“Impressive. I don’t suppose I could…”

“No way, no day HG. You kill people for a living now. That would make things too easy.”

“You know I have nothing to do with the death of that young man. My artifact days are long behind me.”

“I know,” Claudia replied with a slight frown. “You’re quite good at what you do now from what I’ve learned.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“But I thought I’d let you know for old time’s sake that your dance partner, “Claudia made a disgusted face, “is still in the city as well.  She checks out on the surface but something isn’t quite right.”

HG arched an eyebrow. Given what she’d just learned from Raul, this could be very timely information.

“Thank you for the heads up,” HG smiled. “I’ll look into it.”

Claudia nodded and stood. She’d come to do what she wanted. See how HG was doing for herself.  It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Myka, but the older Agent’s perspective was always skewed.

Love tended to do that to people.

“And how is Myka?” HG asked before she walked away. “Is she well?”

Claudia paused, studying the other woman before she answered. “She’s good. Not crazy, evil or dead just yet. I’ll tell her you said hello.”

Before HG could reply she turned and headed out of the club, leaving HG to her work.

Before her heart could break at the thought how much love HG still held for Myka. 

And the sadness she felt for them both took hold.


	7. The floors are falling out from everybody I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada, conclusion.

HG ducked behind a column as her targets opened fire in the crowd. She had hoped to avoid the chaos but there was no choice. The hit had made it complicated, refusing her advances several days prior.

It was messy, but at least it was done.

She ducked down and took out another of his henchmen, blood splattering on some bystanders trying to escape.

More shots peppered her hiding spot. Quickly she dashed to a table on its side for cover. Civilians were still screaming, still running, trying to avoid getting killed.

Two more shots, two more down. Three more to go.

Her plan hadn’t included the bodyguards but she had to take measures accordingly.  The unexpected distraction of one of the party attendees  turning into a snowman during the Masquerade Ball was too good an opportunity to pass up.

More shots in her direction.

“Bugger,” she quickly reloaded. The three lackeys were obviously trained well.  She fired a couple of shots. Another party goer fell. She rolled her eyes.

Quickly she scanned the ballroom for any advantage point. She would have to dispense with these three and make her escape quickly. HG estimated that the police would be here within two minutes.

The Warehouse team wouldn’t be far behind.

Suddenly shots came from the opposite side of the room. One of the gunmen fell. The others turned and opened fire.

Seizing the opportunity, HG leapt over the table she was hiding behind, shooting one of the remaining men in the head.  The other turned quickly, but HG was too fast and took him out with one of her favorite Kenpo moves.

Recovering quickly she raised her gun towards the doorway where Samantha emerged.

“You know this will end badly,” HG said calmly.

“For you.” Samantha smiled. “I know you’re out of ammo.”

“Do you now?” HG quirked an eyebrow, “are you absolutely positive?”

The moment of uncertainly was all HG needed as the other woman looked at HG’s weapon and not her eyes.  The Victorian launched a small blade at Samantha’s head.  It missed and the woman fired wildly.

HG was already moving, heading for a side entrance. This would have to end another day. The sirens were getting louder.

 

She made it outside and into the crowd by the time the police came.

And then she saw her.  Their eyes met.

 Myka left Pete and Claudia to deal with the artifact.

“Hello again.” HG’s light tone hid the turning in her stomach.

“So,” the Agent waved a hand. “Are you responsible for this chaos?”

“The artifact created quite the stir as well.”

An awkward silence fell. HG knew she’d have to leave soon. The police would want to speak with her. While a member of the Secret Service could talk their way out of this situation she could not.

“Well,” HG began, “I must be going. Can’t let the police find me here.” She stepped closer to the other woman. “It was good to see you Myka.”

With a nod she began to move off.

“Why?” Myka finally spoke. “Why Helena?”

“There is no easy answer to that question,” Helena smiled sadly. “Someday I’ll have the time to explain. But for now know that you are never far from my thoughts.”

Samantha watched the exchange from afar. A plan formed on another way to get back at her target.

 

 

Dallas was absolutely miserable in  August.  The heat. The humidity. It certainly must be a circle of hell, HG thought as she tied her hair back.  It was time to settle the debt owed by Damien’s death.

There were only two ways to end a contract on someone. And her death was not an option.

The brother was not a smart man. It was easy to sever the brake lines on his Mercedes, causing a massive wreck on the tollway that made the evening news.

Samantha had been a bit trickier to take care of, but Sylvia’s training on the use of poison had paid off yet again.

“Your biggest mistake,” HG said as the younger woman choked, “was going after the Secret Service Agents. I might have let you live, but creating that accident.” HG tsked. “Not smart.”

Myka had nearly died on the way to the airport. HG had read the police report and knew one of her ilk was behind it.

“You should know, never make it personal.” Samantha’s eyes widened as death took hold. “It always comes back to get you in the end.”


	8. And the nights you sleep and dream of me, and the love you let die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada, epilogue.

The recovery had been brutal. She nearly lost her left leg and wouldn’t have full range of motion in her right shoulder ever again. It took almost a complete year before she could be back in the field.

Pete and Claudia hadn’t faired quite as badly in the accident in Quebec, but they had their share of recovery and ailments. Pete still would look at times with an unspoken apology in his eyes.   They had both read the report. She knew it wasn’t his fault and never blamed him once.

She closed the door to her bedroom and went over to the bed. Kneeling down, she pulled out a box that was just as important to her rehabilitation as the months of physical therapy.

The a small package with a first edition of her favorite Anthony Bishop novel came just after the third surgery on her leg.  A rare early illustrated version of the Marvelous Land of Oz came next, after a week at the rehab facility in Cedar Rapids. Also in the package was a post it note with a get well message.  The next was waiting for her when she moved back to the Bed and Breakfast. There was a Don’t Mess with Texas postcard with another note of encouragement written in beautiful scrawl.  She felt tears in her eyes as she looked at the signed copy of The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde that came with the postcard.

The dedication was to Helena but it didn’t matter.

Another September 21st was about to end.  After Canada she knew that the chance of Helena returning to the Warehouse had become zero. From what Claudia told her much later, Helena’s work during that job had made her somewhat of a legend in her dark world.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in that. Helena continued to change the rules, no matter where she was.

If only she could have stayed here.

But fate was an evil tormentor, only giving them one night to share their feelings and their passions for one another. Then Helena was off to serve The Regents, until she wasn’t anymore.

Things in the Warehouse were changing. She was changing. There was talk of Artie’s retirement and Claudia taking over as Caretaker. Abigail had finally moved on, leaving them to manage their demons on their own.  Pete had met someone during his recovery. It was becoming serious.

The world was moving on and Myka was too.

Sighing, she closed the box and slid it back under the bed. 


	9. And when that fog horn blows, I wanna hear it, I don’t have to fear it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes can come from the smallest of moments.

HG set the keys down on the small table by the door, dragging her heavy bag through the threshold of her London flat.  Perth had been a lovely city with a simple espionage job that was a nice change of pace to the dramatic ones she’d had of late.

But none were Canada, although Beijing had come close.

“Hello Agent Wells.”

HG whipped out her gun in surprise, pointing it at the elderly woman in front of her.

Although elderly was a relative term.

“Irene,” HG replied, not lowering her gun. “And what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I thought you would like to know that Agent Nielson is no longer with us.” Mrs. Fredric replied, barely a trace of emotion in her voice.  “Given the fact he vouched for you so adamantly after the Sykes incident, I felt it important you know.”

“Thank you,” HG wasn’t quite sure how she felt.  Sadness, yes, about the loss of the man who had essentially made it possible for her to continue to exist.  But anger also. He had laid the foundation for the path she now walked as well. She lowered the gun.

“How did it happen?  I thought he retired earlier this year?”

“He was lost while boating on Lake Superior.”

“Hmm.”  Well at least an artifact didn’t get him.

“There is going to be a memorial service in three days time. You are more than welcome to attend.”

“You do know what I do for a living now, do you not? And that if I am caught in the United States I will not see the light of day again.”

 “I’m sure you’ll find a way Helena.”

“We shall see then.”

Mrs. Fredric headed towards the door, pausing before she walked through.

“If we do not speak again Agent Wells, I want to personally say thank you for your service to the Warehouse.  It misses you.  She misses you.”

 

 

HG looked over at the array of phones on the end table. The various colors represented the many faces she now wore.  But one represented who she once was and could never be again.  Her thoughts turned back to that night, as they had so often of late.

Perhaps old age was bringing out her sentimental side.

HG sipped the aged scotch and looked out the window into a gray London twilight.  The memorial service would be wrapping up in South Dakota. She raised her glass in salute.

Setting the empty tumbler down, she reached for her pen.

_Dearest Myka,_

_It all began with a man named Damien I met at the Hacienda Motel…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be taking a break from this world for a bit. There are still quite a few years in between the events in Hacienda Motel and Somewhere in London that can be covered. I have a few ideas but it'll probably be awhile before I get back to them.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! There's a soundtrack of sorts to check out if you're interested for this story as well http://8tracks.com/mfangeleeta/hacienda-motel


	10. Staying out super late tonight, picking apples, making pies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another year lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I offer a brief one shot in the Hacienda Motel universe with a heavy sprinkle of The National. Fueled by Western Son vodka and a need to dust off those B/W voices. All mistakes are my own.

She had her ways.  Her ways of keeping track of those always out of reach but not far out of mind. As the years progressed she found herself following the adventures of team Warehouse 13 closely.

But then she learned of another year lost by her favorite agent.  And there was no way she could make it right.

 She passed on three lucrative assignments during that year, selecting those that would keep her close to her London home base.  Prague had elevated the Dutchman’s status greatly. She would have become a legend. But it would require too much focus.

 Sylvia would sigh and shake her head. Yuri would text incessantly.  Raul was above it all, a raised eyebrow his only response. No one knew the true reason behind her reticence towards work.  

She had read that fear was the mind killer and for that year that Myka went through her treatments the statement had never been truer.  In her profession, the distraction would be deadly.

Things came to a head one cloudy July day. A fresh rainstorm had left the air both clean and humid, more than South Dakota normally experienced.  HG broke all of her personal protocols and visited the hospital.  Myka had completed a second surgery to remove a questionable mass from her liver.

“You know I should arrest you,” Pete said coming up to stand beside her. “You’re on the top ten most wanted list right now.”

“Am I? What number?”

“Three.”

HG huffed. “Not doing my job then.”

He chuckled softly. “I won’t ask how you managed to get back in the States then.”

“Good.”

A surprising comfortable silence fell as they waited.  Myka was in recovery and would wake up in a few hours.

She would wait as long as she could, but would be gone before the other woman awoke.

“How long will you…” he asked after a time.

“If I stay here, trouble will find me. “ She sighed and added in a voice so low he almost didn’t hear it. “If I stay here, I’ll never leave.”

“Okay.”

The silence fell once again as they waited for the one they both loved, differently but intensely, to awake.  


	11. Here I am expecting just a little bit too much from the wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A package.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little follow up to Helena's visit to the hospital.
> 
> Trying to keep mentally sharp at work, so here's one of two updates to the series. All mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I've also updated the music that goes with this series at http://8tracks.com/mfangeleeta/hacienda-motel

The package sat on a small table in the corner of her room. She had found it when she got home from the hospital. The mass on her liver was benign but the pain she felt certainly wasn’t. 

She looked at the unopened box, knowing exactly who it was from. The packages started coming after Quebec a couple of years ago. A handful a year, full of things she loved from someone she shouldn’t. 

But this one she had left sitting for the past few days. Pete, in a moment of weakness, had admitted that Helena had visited the hospital. She made him repeat, word for word, their brief conversation. 

Her best friend knew that despite all the time that had passed, Myka’s heart still sped up when Helena’s name was mentioned. 

Sometimes she’d have this little fantasy that they could be together. Helena would continue doing what she now did best. Myka would continue to work for the Warehouse. They would meet in secret during breaks in between jobs and retrievals, far away from prying eyes and angry governments.

Other times she dreamed of retiring from the Warehouse. She would seek Helena out and they would simply be. In those daydreams, Helena would leave her profession and they’d run away to someplace exotic, like Bora Bora, where no one knew of their past. 

Her favorite though is one day coming back to the B&B. Helena is there waiting for her, eyes full of apology and love. Mrs. Fredric has worked her magic and her love would be back to stay. 

Myka shook her head slightly to clear her mind and looked at the sealed box. Sighing, she quickly walked over and grabbed the small package, tossing it into the trash basket. Steve was on garbage duty this week so he’d take care of it for her.

 

“Steve,” she asked. “Do you remember seeing a package in the trash a couple of days ago?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded slightly. He might not have been at the Warehouse when HG was, but Claude and Pete have filled him in. 

“Did you..”Myka trailed off.

“I saw it was unopened, so I figured you’d thrown in away by accident.” He gave her a slight smile. “Let me go get it for you.”

 

The package sat on a small table in the corner of her room. Unopened.


	12. Recall the deeds as if they’re all someone else’s atrocious stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Myka one shot set sometime between the previous two chapters and Somewhere in London.

It had taken months to track him down. Months of searching in secret, using every backdoor code she could get her hands on. Pulling in favors from people she hadn’t talked to in years, dodging questions of where she’d been and what South Dakota was like.

It helped that she was the new ‘Artie’. It gave her access to information she wouldn’t have otherwise. Claudia’s ongoing side project of tracking Helena’s exploits over the years ‘just in case’ proved invaluable.

It was how she learned of the ‘accident’ during a job in Tokyo that had put the assassin in a coma for six days. Helena had her own people, her own team that made sure she’d been cared for. Her identity kept secret. 

The HG File was how she’d learned about a rival killer who was angry that Helena had been picked for the job over him. About her fame in their world. And he had decided that she needed to be taken out of the picture. 

The man hid his tracks well, so well that those that worked with Helena didn’t suspect, but Myka knew. Her sharp eyes and keen intellect spotted a small inconsistently in the police report, the out of sequence numbers in the security check, the three second gap in the surveillance footage.

Kosan was visiting the Warehouse when her special ‘ping’ arrived. She excused herself from the meeting for a moment to verify. When she returned she avoided the head Regents eyes. It was almost as if he knew.

Three days later, hat pulled low to hide her face, she dropped off a package at a posh hotel in Bangkok.

 

“You’re looking much better these days,” Sylvia smiled. “You had me worried there for a bit.”

“Thank you,” HG replied, sipping her tea. “I feel almost recovered. Yuri is already pestering me about work.”

“Well there does seem to be a surplus of jobs as of late. Especially with what happened to Pierre.”

HG waited for Sylvia to continue.

“It is the strangest thing,” she paused, setting her cup down. “He was on a job in Bangkok, a simple transport job. But he missed the pickup. Davidson tracked him down to some ritzy hotel and found him. Or what was left of him.”

“Really,” HG was intrigued. He artifact sense began to tingle.

“Someone had cut off both his hands and his tongue. His neck was broken and,” she paused, searching for the best phrasing.

“He’d been violated,” HG supplied. Sylvia nodded.

“Titus Andronicus,” Helena whispered. Then smiled.


	13. There’s a science to walking through windows without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every new beginning comes from another beginning's end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look into the early days of HG in her new world. Set between Chapters 1 and 2 of Hacienda Motel.

“So how exactly does this work?”

“Well,” Damien said, leaning back into his deck chair. “It’s quite simple really. We have control personnel who contact us for available jobs.  Some jobs are through agencies, some are independent contract.  Once you accept, you are on that hit until it’s complete.”

“Hmm,” HG adjusted the wide brimmed hat then the sunglasses on her face. It was a warm day in Cabo but not unpleasantly so.  “Can you work on more than one job at one time?”

“It’s rare, but not unheard of.”

She fell silent, contemplating the possibilities.

“And what about protection, is that provided?”

“Protection?”

“From governments, those seeking revenge, others in our field?”

“We have an honor code. No professional will ever go after another without good cause. It has been years since something like that happened.”  Damien glanced over at his friend. “And plenty of starter cover ids. You seem  inventive. I’m sure you can take it from there.” He paused, running a hand over his short red hair.

“Or is there something or someone you need protection from?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She took on her snotty British tone. “Quite”

 “Okay.”

They fell into comfortable silence as the vacationing crowd swirled around the pool.  They were an odd pair, but HG found herself liking the man quite a bit.  He was the best aspects of Wolly and Agent Lattimer combined into a pleasant looking form.

Damien had approached her after a botched artifact retrieval for the Regents.  The man who possessed the curiosity had been killed by her and not entirely by accident. The same man that Damien had been contracted to kill.

He had offered to split his considerable fee if she promised to keep quiet and allow him to take credit. She readily agreed.

They stayed in contact after that, never really discussing what they exactly did for a living.  HG found herself chafing under the strict control of her employers.  That and other unsavory aspects of life dealing with the Warehouse caused her abrupt departure from that world.

And Damien, knowing talent when he saw it, invited her into his. She had completed a  small job in Yuma under his watchful eye as sort of a trial run. He liked what he saw.

Which brought them here to a trendy resort in Cabo San Lucas on a job for one of the major Cartels in Mexico. It was her first official work as a problem solver.

A thin woman with shoulder length curly hair caught her eye and for a moment her heart sped up. But the eyes were the wrong color.

There were many things she was glad to be rid of from the world of the Warehouse.

Myka Bering would never be one of them.

“Tell me again about the system of phones,” she asked reaching for her drink, “each is a different color?”


	14. Let there be light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The abyss also gazes into you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update that falls into the netherworld between Chapters 1 and 2.

There was a rage that unexpectedly filled her at times. A word or a deed, sometimes an incident while on a job and then it struck.  She supposed it came from unresolved issues with Christina, with the Warehouse, with Myka.

Because during those times even thoughts of the Agent did little to quell her anger.

She would sequester herself during those times if at all possible, not feeling focused enough for the kinds of intricate jobs she was building her reputation on.

Sometimes though, stewing in one of her safe houses wasn’t enough and she’d pick up a quick local job. Usually something violent and quite messy that always paid cash that she never picked up.

She found herself in quite a nasty mood after a job in Paris. The city would always unbalance her. So she selected a job in Berlin with a quick turnaround time. 

The task was simple. There was a night porter who had decided to take over the block she worked.  A rival boss was unhappy with this new arrangement.  The kill wasn’t enough, a message had to be sent.

But it couldn’t be tied back to him.  As these things never could be.

Her charm and good looks had always allowed her a certain ease, and getting into the exclusive club had been no trouble. With a few words and some Euros she had been given a private audience with her target.

The women’s skills were well known. It had been some time since she’d know the pleasure of another’s touch. There would be no harm in enjoying herself before the job was complete.

When she laid eyes on the slender form, the pale skin, the long wild looking dark hair of her target she almost faltered. A sudden light slicing through the darkness.

But the black quickly filtered in and she decided that the kill would have to be enough.

 

There was so much red swirling in the shower later, she almost didn’t remember where it had all come from. 

Perhaps she would collect the cash this time.


	15. Is this the darkness of the dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So be the girl you loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a different take on darkness and light, loosely tied in with the last HG chapter. This one is set somewhere between 10-12. 
> 
> I blame Retrograde by James Blake on repeat for the past several days for this.

She rarely went out on retrievals anymore.  As the ‘new Artie’ her job was much like that of the dearly departed old Artie. Research on artifacts, meetings with Mrs. Fredrick and Claudia, endless lists of inventory.

Myka now understood why Artie was grumpy all the time.

So when a simple snag and bag pinged in St Petersburg, she surprised everyone is assigning herself to the case.

“Are you sure Mykes?” Pete asked after she’d briefed the team. She knew that Steve and Morris had elected him to have ‘the talk’.

“Yes,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I still am a Secret Service Agent Pete. Besides it’s been too long since I’ve seen some action.”

“I’m going to ignore that,” Pete dodged the punch. “It’s just that…”

“I’ve been in remission for six months,” Myka lowered her voice. “Dr. Newsome cleared me three weeks ago for active duty.”

“Are you sure you don’t want some back up? Maybe take the new guy?”

“I need to do this, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

And it was as easy as the file had read.  She had booked the hotel for three days but picked up the object-a Sand Dollar from the original Margaritaville that caused who ever held the artifact to burst into a rendition of the song-in the first few hours.

Myka decided to stay the extra two days. She just needed a break. Needed not to be Agent Bering for just a short while.

On the first night she ordered room service and watched the Broncos destroy the Ravens. It was nice to just be lazy for a change.

The second she found a small seaside bar and sat sipping her vodka tonic watching the sun set. It was beautiful, but didn’t quell the restlessness that had prompted her travel to Florida in the first place.

After a brief trip to the mall, she went out on her final night.

 

It was the third place she stopped in Ybor City, she wasn’t even sure what the name of the place was.  She had just enough to drink to loosen her up and get her on the dance floor.  She smiled at herself thinking that Pete would love to see her now.

Sweaty but feeling more alive than she had in months, Myka sat down at the bar to order one more drink for the night.

“I’ll have one more of these,” an accented voice came from over her shoulder and she spun around startled.

“And put hers on my tab.”

“Thanks,” Myka replied, “but that’s not necessary.”

“Nonsense,” the other woman replied, blue eyes sparkling. “I saw you, out there,” she pointed to the dance floor. “You move quite well.”

“Perhaps after we finish our drinks you’ll join me?”

Myka smiled, “Sure.”

 

“Well looks like the Sunshine State agreed with you.” Pete said a couple of days later. He’d been off chasing an artifact with Steve when she’d gotten back.

“It was nice.” Myka replied, remembering watching the sun rise over the bay, with a slender form pressed against her.  It wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would do.

Pete looked at her closely, something had happened.

“Come on,” she said lifting the clipboard. “Inventory waits for no man.”


	16. This hurts even more than I expected it to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on, it's been so long. And I love you still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there unexpected update. I blame vodka, new Twin Shadow on endless repeat and Pride weekend in my city for this update. 
> 
> Set sometime before the Canada chapters.
> 
> And with two chapters in a row involving dancing, I think it might be time I take myself out to a dance floor.

Every now and then she’d indulge her whims and seek out what has hidden in plain sight.  Her artifact senses were still spot on, and she could idly look through a local paper and know a curiosity was at work.

And if it allowed her, from time to time, to quietly follow the actions of the Warehouse team so be it.

This time is was Myka and Agent Jinks checking out an artifact in Boystown. Chicago had changed quite a bit since her first visit in 1893 but her fondness for the city never changed.

She had already planned on Berlin-it was Saturday night after all-and if Agent Jinks happened to be on the dance floor, she would blend. The club would be crowed and at worst she could send a friendly drag queen his way.

What she hadn’t expected was Myka stepping up to the bar next to the other Agent, ordering her standard Vodka Tonic.

“You okay honey? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Not quite, but close.” HG looked up at the taller woman. 

The drag queen glanced over at Steve and Myka who were chatting quietly. “She your ex?”

“Something like that.”

“Tell you what,” her new friend smiled, “how about you dance with me? Cause you know that skinny bitch over there can’t compete with this.”

HG smiled and headed out to the floor.

As expected when midnight hit the floor was packed with gyrating bodies.  HG’s partner proved quite talented on the dance floor and she found herself almost forgetting about her past sharing the room with her. She even found herself back to back with Agent Jinks at one point as he danced with a tall man with sandy blonde hair.

 

“So what did you think?” Steve asked as they waited for the El. It was around 4am, much later than Myka had planned on staying out.

“It was fun,” she leaded against an advertising display. “I don’t think I’ve danced that much in awhile.”

“A friend of mine with the ATF is from Chicago. He turned me onto this place,” Steve smiled. “It’s always is a good time.”

“Yeah,” Myka trailed off, thinking of the woman with long dark hair dancing with a group of drag queens she’d spotted earlier that night. It was dark, but something about the woman’s movements had been familiar.


	17. You must be somewhere in London, you must be loving your life in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cleansing and troubling rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say. The chapter would fall before Chapter 1, has a tie in to Somewhere in London, and a reference to my one of my totally unrelated fics. (If you guess which one, you so win a prize.) 
> 
> It's October, time for thinky thoughts and The National in 11 days. Thanks for reading!

Myka hurried into the shop on Baker Street to avoid the sudden afternoon rainstorm. She was in London, looking for Winston Churchill’s coffee cup with Pete and Steve. But being back in here, days after news reached her that Helena had left the Warehouse.

All she could see was the other woman everywhere.

It was ridiculous, she knew. The fellow (former) Agent was most likely at the farthest point away from anything and everything to do with the Warehouse. She still couldn’t believe that they had cut ties with HG Wells. Something drastic must have happened and she was dying to know.

And hiding the hurt she felt deep inside. The realist knew that one night of incredible passion-built on a foundation of pent up longing-didn’t a solid foundation for the future make.

But that didn’t’ stop her heart from wanting. And hoping. And wishing.

As Myka pondered the possibilities of what a free HG Wells would do, she hoped that whatever the other woman found she would be at peace. Perhaps with a family, maybe even a child to replace her beloved Christina.

She snorted. HG Wells, suburban housewife. No way, no day as Claudia was fond of saying.

Mentally shaking herself she stepped further into the building. It was actually a pub, not a coffee shop.  A placard read The Old Bell Tavern, one of the earliest drinking establishments in London. Stepping up to the bar, the Agent didn’t hesitate in ordering a pint on a dreary London October afternoon.

The case was at an impasse. Her lover was gone. Her friends scattered across the city. If ever there was a time for a drink this was it.

Myka raised her glass to no one, not noticing the dark haired figure hidden in the corner. 


	18. I’m in love with you but the vibe is wrong, and that haunted me all the way home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're just racing time, where's the finish line?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new story arc for Hacienda Motel set prior to chapter one, starting with chapter 17. Not quite sure how long it will be, but shooting for the same length of the "Canada" story.
> 
> Thanks for the views and feedback for this and Somewhere in London! Always looking for input on how I can make this stuff better.

“Lurk much?”

“Not now.”

Damien plopped down across in the empty chair, only slightly blocking her view of Agent Bering at the far end of the bar. She knew it had been foolish to come to London so soon after her split with the Warehouse, but there were things she needed from her home.

Things the Warehouse didn’t know about.

She had contacted Damien to see if he was available.  She had questions. And an idea of what to do next now that she wasn’t under the Regents’ thumb.

Damien glanced over this should to see what his friend was looking at so intently. There was a rather attractive woman enjoying a pint. He could definitely see the appeal.

“Friend or future conquest?” he quipped.

“Neither,” she sighed.

HG leaned further back into the corner as Myka finished the last of her beer and stood.  The Agent pulled out her phone, read a quick message and headed out into the light mist falling outside.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“Not really.”

Damien waited. She’d called him out of the blue two days ago to see if they could meet in London.  She had wanted to discuss a business proposition. Damien had been in the business long enough to know what kind of job she wanted to hire him for.

What surprised him though is that she wouldn’t handle the situation herself.  The two times they’d crossed paths in the last year while working, she’d more than demonstrated her considerable skill.  He thought a new major player was in the game. But when he asked, no one had heard of her, not even Yuri or Raul.

“So is she the job then?”

“Never,” HG practically hissed, causing Damien to flinch.

“Okay, okay,” he put up his hands. “Then who is?”

“Who is what?”

“The job,” Damien huffed.  “You called me? Remember? Wanting to talk business.” He leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice. “I assumed you wanted to contract my services.”

“I do,” HG replied, “but not for that. I want you hire you as my teacher.”

Damien snorted. “Don’t joke about such things. “

“I assure you I’m quite serious.” She paused and let a bit of the darkness fill her eyes.  “I am familiar on how to take someone’s life.  I now need to know how to earn a living while doing so.”

“Hmm,” he studied her for a moment.  “Why this sudden change in profession my dear? You seemed quite content working for whomever you worked for, hunting for those magical objects.  It didn’t seem like the sort of thing you could just quit.”

“I was never content,” HG replied bitterly. “It was merely a means to an end that was refused me.”

“And so you quit because you didn’t get what you want? Come now,” Damien shook his head. “That seems quite petulant.”

“It is not that simple,” HG ran a hand through her hair.

“Then explain it to me. Because if I’m to take on an apprentice, I need to know everything.”

“I can’t.”

“Well then,” Damien stood, “I can’t help you.”

“Wait. Just wait.”

Damien sat slowly.

“I will tell you what happened. About who I am.  But you have to swear to me that this conversation goes no farther.”

“Agreed.” Damien nodded. “There is an honor code among assassins so what we discuss will stay between us. But also know that once you enter this field, there is only one way to ever leave it.”

“I understand.”

“Come then,” HG slid the chair back.  “I need to go to my old home to retrieve a few items. It’s just down the street.”

“In the historical district?”

“Yes.”


	19. The rhythm of my footsteps crossing the flatlands to your door have been silenced forever more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making islands where know islands should go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three of the 'London' story arc, set prior to the first chapter of Hacienda Motel.

In hindsight, Damien did take the news well.  She wasn’t part of the Warehouse anymore so technically she could have more than one One. From what she gathered, the world she was about to enter was even more so clandestine that the one she’d just left, so Damien would be enough.

_“You built an actual time machine?”_

_“Well more of a temporal transference device.”_

_“What?”_

_Sigh. “Yes.”_

_“And so this being in bronze, seems a lot like carbonite.”_

_Smirk. “You’re not the first person to make that comparison. But I am no scoundrel with a heart of gold.”_

 

_“You know I never thought the time traveler returned to the future to create a new world out of the goodness of his heart. Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to basically be a God among simple men?   Plus I bet Weena was hot so,” pause, “you know.”_

_“I suppose that is one interpretation.” she replied icily._

_“You never really thought of things like that? Come now, you’re HG Wells. Part of you had to know you were helping to solidify an entire genre of literature.”_

_“I assure you that was not my end goal.”_

She debated Damien for hours on literature and its meaning. HG wasn’t surprised that her friend was so well versed in the classics.  He brushed it off _.  “I have a lot of time to read on stakeouts. Plus my degree is in Art History.”_

That was a bit surprising.

In thinking about things further, that part of her mind hadn’t been engaged quite so well since Myka.

 

_“A movie that absolutely dreadful must have even worse source material.”_

_“Dude, Forbidden Planet is a classic!” Pete whined._

_“It’s actually based on The Tempest,” Myka added with a lovely small smile._

_“Really,” she replied. “I stand by my assessment then.”_

_“What?!”_

 

Sipping her tea, HG settled into the overstuffed chair that looked out a large window at the London skyline. Damien had set her up in one of his many safe houses in the city. _“You need a home base and I have flats to spare.”_ Somewhere Myka was out there with her team, searching for an artifact. (She suspected Winston Churchill’s coffee cup). They had almost crossed paths for the first time in almost a year.

_“Are you sure?”_

_“More than anything.”_

_She pressed forward, melting her body into the taller one feeling Myka’s curves for the first time.  She slipped her had underneath the crisp white tee shirt her fellow Agent wore, caressing a soft trembling stomach._

_Myka pulled back from the kiss with a gasp._

_“Helena,” she rasped, “I love you.”_

_“And I you,” her eyes were bright, “always.”_

The phone on the coffee table buzzed, pulling HG from her memories.  Damien’s voice was serious over the tiny speaker.

“Meet me at the Old Bell Tavern in one hour. It’s time for your first lesson.”


	20. To drag you down with me and kick the last nail in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And further down the rabbit hole we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update to the London arc, set prior to Chapter One of Hacienda. Thanks again for reading. Remember I'm always open to feed back so feel free to comment!

She’d met Damien at the Old Bell Tavern well after the sun had set and the October chill had set in. Pulling her dark Pea Coat tight around her, she followed him into the London night.

“There are many types of jobs in this profession,” Damien began. “Not all involve death.  Only the most lucrative and often the most difficult. There are ways to make money transporting goods, in espionage, doing computer work, etcetera.”

“To be the best,” he glanced over at the sorter woman, “you have to excel at all of them.”

“Right.”

“Tonight will be an easy lesson,” Damien rounded the corner and headed towards the tube. “I have a simple espionage job that brought me to London.  There might or might not be a new player in the arms market. We will need to observe him for the next several weeks to ascertain if this rumor is true.”

“With what goal in mind?”

Damien stopped before they headed underground. “I report back to my contractor what we find. If he’s a dealer, I suspect a hit will be taken out on him.”

“And will you be rewarded with that contract?”

“Most likely,” Damien grinned. “That’s a reason to take the spy gigs. They usually lead to something better.”

 

Observing people was something HG knew she was quite good at doing. Her skills impressed Damien and her eye for detail helped them discover who their target’s main connection for the illegal guns he was trading in just under two weeks. They were instructed to continue to keep an eye on their target.

For an extra fee of course.

But stakeouts, for lack of a better term, were boring as they had been in the 1890s. She often found her mind drifting.

_“These Whitechapel Murders must involve an artifact. It is our duty to investigate.”_

_“Helena,” Chataranga shook his head. “This is a matter for the police to handle.”_

_“Bollocks!”_

_“And so this gun fires bursts of pure energy?”_

_“Yes,” Nicola beamed. “I do not believe guns have a place in a civilized society.”_

_“Really,” HG smiled. “I might have a proposition you’d be very interested in.”_

 

But more so than not her thoughts turned to the past year spent with the Warehouse.

_“How much longer must I endure this torment?”_

_“Torment Agent Wells,” Kosan’s tone had been snide. “Keep in mind you could be in bronze or teaching English again if we so desired. Be thankful you are allowed to continue to work for us unmolested.”_

_“As long as I stay on your leash,” HG fired back. “I did as you asked, kept the Astrolabe moving and away from the Warehouse. Didn’t involve myself when the Sweating Sickness ransacked the globe. Even though I knew the location of the Orchid. You STILL kept me away.”_

_“We had our reasons.”_

_“And what are your reasons now?”_

_Silence._

 

“We got the contract.”  Damien’s cheerful voice broke her out of the past.  “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Once I add you as the apprentice on this job, your name will be on the market.”

“I am sure.”


	21. Saying oh my God, waiting here so long I’m feeling changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good fight doesn't keep you warm at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next installment in the London arc. I'd say another couple of chapters and we'll be through this section. Thanks again for reading!

_The Regents sat in eternal judgment of all her actions. Stopping Jack the Ripper-a commendation and a warning for reckless behavior. Introducing the Tesla gun into the Warehouse-thanks and forbidding her to discuss the Warehouse with anyone else. Nicola was now her one.  Sacrificing yourself in an alternate time line to save the Warehouse and its team? Traveling around the globe protecting the Astrolabe? A year spent retrieving some of the most difficult and deadly artifacts. Alone._

_It was never good enough. And she was so very weary of the endless solo missions. Luckily she had made a friend in a charming assassin during a retrieval in Salt Lake City.  But here she was, arriving moments before from Havana on yet another quest. The Regents ready to chastise her yet again for not being able to save the man in possession of Castro’s hat._

_“We find ourselves in quite a predicament Helena,” Jane Lattimer closed the file before her. “This is the second time this year a person lost their life during one of your missions.”_

_“I am well aware.”_

_“And you have nothing to say about that?” Kosan asked._

_“What would you have me say?” She schooled her expression as best she could but it was difficult. “I have collected more curiosities that your current Warehouse team-combined.  I have prevented, at last count, three global disasters. Not counting the one of my own making,” she added with a smirk. “As deplorable the loss of life is, sometimes it is a necessary result.”_

_“A necessary result?” Jane raised an eyebrow._

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“Do we?” Kosan replied, looking at his fellow Regents. “Do you?”_

_She sighed.  “It is a necessary result when there is no alternative. No other options. No support to help you out of a…”_

_“I think we’ve been quite clear on this issue Agent Wells,” Kosan cut her off. “Your history with the Warehouse prevents you from returning.”_

_“For the time being.”_

_“No Agent Wells,” Jane’s tone was hard. “Ever.”_

_“What! But I was told…”_

_“You were told what you needed to be told,” Kosan again cut her off. “You are too important an asset to the Warehouse to be bronzed and as a concession to Mrs. Fredrick and Agent Nielson you were not returned to the Janus Coin.”_

_“We are aware of your relationship with Agent Bering,” Jane continued. “She is slated to replace Agent Nielson when he retires. We cannot have you mudding the waters, as it were.”_

_“Plus,” Jane pulled a piece of paper from the folder in front of her. “It seems you’ve found a new friend to help you pass the time.”_

_HG looked at the picture of her with Damien at a bar in Chelsea. It didn’t matter that she returned to her hotel an hour later, alone, while he met his date over in the Village._

_“Now that we’ve cleared things up,” Kosan broke the silence, “let’s discuss your next retrieval.”_

_“No,” HG cut him off. She stood slowly reaching to her hip to remove her Tesla, the one Nicola and Chataranga had made especially for her, setting it down on the table. She pulled out her fake credentials and set them next to the gun._

_She turned without a word, leaving the life she’d know for over a century behind._

“So what caused you to leave,” Damien asked as he packed the last of their gear.  They would be taking out the target tomorrow ‘long distance’ as her teacher liked to call it.

“As I told you,” HG looked over the top of The Times, “my former employers and I did not see eye to eye.”

He looked over at the woman who had resumed her reading.

“And what of the woman, the one from the bar, did she used to work with you?”

“Yes.”

“And were you?”

“We still are,” she replied sadly, eyes returning to the paper before her.  She felt the black phone in her breast pocket vibrate. It was yet another text from Myka that she would be unable to answer. 


	22. To be lost in your thoughts, with your hands on my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and darkness and my side arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the London arc for Hacienda Motel. I'll be taking a little break from this story as I work on Degenerate in Fables and Old Love/New Love but I think there's a bit more to be told.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! And don't forget to check out the playlist that goes along with this series at http://8tracks.com/mfangeleeta/hacienda-motel/

_Myka pulled her towards the bed with a never ending kiss. She felt overwhelmed, unable to do more than stumble forward, her hands tight in the other woman’s hair. The heat continuing to rise between them._

_“Myka,” Helena barely recognized her own voice.  “Myka…”_

_“I love you,” the other woman said softly as she nipped along her neck, feeling her shirt part.  “I love you.”_

_“My Myka,” she pulled the other woman in for a kiss as they tumbled back onto the bed._

 

“Do you have him?” Damien’s voice crackled through the earpiece.  She looked through the site of the long range rifle again.

“Not yet,” she murmured, “he’s still obstructed.”

HG glanced up, looking in the general direction of where she believed the other man was. If she couldn’t take the shot, he would.

 

_She could barely breathe, her chest was so tight. It was like drowning, drowning in all things Myka Bering. She managed to open her eyes as the other woman worked down her body. Lingering kisses on scars from injuries over a century old._

_“I love you,” Helena rasped out when Myka’s eyes met hers._

_“I know.”_

 

HG felt a rush of adrenaline as the target finally came into view.  He was with one of his business associates closing another illegal arms deal. The contract had offered an additional million if they could take out both.

“I’ve got him.” She grinned.

 

_She knew after the first taste of skin that no flavor would ever match on her tongue.  After the first whimper, the first moan of her name, there would never be a music quite as stirring,  And she would never tire of hearing her name fall from Myka’s lips, so full of passion, of love, that her heart would never hold another as close._

_She replaced her mouth with her hand as she quickly moved up Myka’s body, desperate to kiss her love as she came apart. Wanting to see the fire in those jade eyes as she screamed her name, to know that she was loved and loved in return._

 

“Nice shot,” she could hear the grin in Damien’s voice.

“What is it you American’s call it,” HG leaned back behind the wall and quickly dismantled the gun, “a two-fer?”

She smiled as her friend burst into laughter.

 

Pete and Myka quickly drew their weapons at the sound of gunfire. They were down the street going over the case when shots rang out.  She had seen both men fall into the street, from what looked like a single bullet.

Staying close to the building, Myka scanned the rooftops. Looking at the splatter, she deducted the shooter must be above them.

“Do you see anything?” Pete asked, also looking up.

“No,” the sound of sirens grew louder. “It looks like a hit.”

Keeping a wary eye on the rooftops, she stepped into the street where the bodies lay.

“I know that guy,” Pete holstered his weapon. “He’s on the Terrorist Watch List. Suspected arms dealer.”

“Then it’s definitely a hit.” Myka relaxed a bit.  She scanned the area one more time.

Her breath caught as a woman with a slim build and long dark hair disappeared into the nearby Tube station. She was walking next to a lanky man with short red hair about Pete’s age. Something in her gut twisted.

“Mykes, you okay?”

“No I’m not.”

 

_She leaned back, brushing a bit of curl off of the other woman’s face._

_“Thank you,” Helena whispered and leaned in for a gentle kiss._

_Myka beamed, trailing a hand through dark hair._

_Their lips met again._


	23. And death does you part when you’re focused on its rival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then became the product of the trust that we had lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between chapters 8 and 9 of Somewhere in London. If you haven't read the prequel/sequel to this ongoing series, you'll need to for this to make sense.
> 
> It's been a long day, so here's something dark.

HG took a deep breath and turned to face the final man.  She knew they would come, eventually.  That the Warehouse wouldn’t stand for the death of Pete Lattimer, supposedly safe in a small cabin in remote British Columbia.

Didn’t those fools the Regents know that her employers were just as powerful and almost as long lived as the Warehouse itself? She had warned Kosan in that horrid Vancouver club this would happen.

HG had long ago realized that the Warehouse would clean up its mess and was a bit surprised it had taken so much time to get to this point. She was still considered the one of biggest mistakes in the history of the Warehouse.  And the cause of Pete’s death.

She casually stepped over the body of the brute with a broken neck and pulled her favorite knife out of another stuck to the wall.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she drawled. “Five of your colleagues lie before you.  Are you that eager to join them?”

His blue eyes hardened.

“I suppose so then.”

 

“That was a handpicked team,” Jane Lattimer sighed closing the folder.  She looked at her fellow Regents. “Are we sure this is the best course of action?”

“They have stuck a blow against the Warehouse,” Myka glanced to her left as another Regent, Smithson, spoke. “We cannot let this act go unpunished.”

“So we deal in vengeance now?” Jane asked.

“Protection and preservation.  Wells was part of two Warehouses. What if she decides to share that knowledge with her current employers?” Smithson voiced a concern they all shared.

Myka tuned out the ongoing argument over what to do about the Wells situation.  She felt guilty every emergency meeting because she was always relieved HG had escaped.

 

HG detested these testosterone laden events. Call her old fashioned, but she much preferred the gentleman’s sport of boxing.  UFC was barbarism.

Her quarry was an ardent fan, so a championship event in Las Vegas was the perfect time to strike. It would be easy thanks the mass chaos as everyone left the area at once.  She easily slipped next to the drug cartel kingpin and delivered the fatal blow of poison via injection.

Five minutes later she watched as a team of paramedics hurried through the casino.  Grinning she texted Yuri on the yellow phone to let him know the job was complete.  As she finished her missive she felt something shift around her.

HG knew to trust these moments of insight when they came to her. They had helped her find artifacts while at Warehouse 12 and they had kept her alive these many years in her current profession.  Remaining calm she headed towards one of the many bars on the casino floor, keeping track of the pattern of movement around her.

Within moments she spotted them. Yet another team sent by the Regents. 

 

Myka sat with Claudia and Steve in Artie’s office going over the files of potential recruits. They were currently spread very thing and needed to bring couple of people into the fold.  Claudia had narrowed the pool but after what had happened to the last two recruits she wanted a second opinion.

The trio jumped when all of their Farnsworths went off at once.

“What the frak?” Claudia looked over at her friends.

“How is this possible?” Steve asked.

“It’s not,” Myka frowned.  With a nod, the opened them simultaneously.

 

“Oh good you all together,” HG grinned.  “Glad to see you all looking so well.”

“What’s up killer for hire?” Claudia quipped.

“I just thought I’d check in to let you know that another team has failed.” She smirked. “Really, I would have expected more from you.”

Myka knew she was speaking directly to her.

HG’s face disappeared from the screens and after a swirl of movement there was only blackness.

“What the…” Claudia trailed off when the picture returned, filled with what was left of the five member team.

“Oh God,” Steve closed his Farnsworth quickly, as did Claudia.

Myka continued to look at the image before her, anger burning brightly.

 

“And we find ourselves here again,” Jane began. This time they were in Duluth, MN overlooking Lake Superior. “This team was supposed to be better than the first.”

“There’s a reason HG is considered one of the top in her field,” Regent Walter shook her head. “Perhaps we should let things lie for a while.”

“I have an idea,” Myka began, focusing on thoughts of Pete, Morris and the Vegas team. She was drowning in the blood of HG’s carnage.

It had swallowed any other feelings she might hold for the other woman. 


	24. But until I hit bottom I won’t believe it’s bottomless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new future is before you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of the Bering and Wells series that I write, I have to admit that Somewhere in London/Hacienda Motel series is by far my favorite. I have one more update that I'm mulling over for this guy and then it will be done. Thank you for all of the support and feedback on both these AU updates and on all of the things I've pumped out over the past year.

HG sat calmly before the panel, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap. She didn’t need to cast a glance over her shoulder to know that Damien sat behind her and to the right. As her mentor and sponsor he was the only representative she could bring to this final tribunal.

After a year of traveling with her friend learning all the tricks of the trade it was time to either be accepted or eliminated.

Because loose ends would never be tolerated.

“Miss Cabal,” the panel’s leader spoke again. “One final question.”

Pulled from her thoughts she focused on the elderly dark skinned man with piercing grey eyes.  “Go ahead.”

“Why?”

HG took a shaky inhale at the unexpected question. She was in the third and final day of the inquisition and the query had never come to mind.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Why, Miss Cabal do you wish to embrace this lifestyle?”

“What does it matter as long as I’m good at what I do?”

“It matters.”

It wasn’t until the people before her squirmed in their discomfort that she finally answered.

“I have seen the light in my child’s eyes,” she began softly, looking at the person who was the decider, “feeling the joy that only being a mother can bring.  I have known a love so beautiful that my heart stopped when she was not at my side.”

Looking down, HG paused, pushing that wistful optimist out of the airlock for the final time. “But my daughter has been dead longer that alive and my love is now my enemy. There is no comfort in the past or in the future, only in the present. So now I saunter vaguely downwards into the abyss.” She paused, “I know who I am, and after many long years of struggle there is a victory in that.”

She smoothly unfolded from the chair and turned to leave.

“We are not in need of someone who’s ultimate goal is death joining our ranks,” the woman, the decider, finally spoke.

 “Life is barely long enough to get good at one thing,” she smirked, “I am not ashamed by what I excel and will certainly not waste my skills on a quick and easy demise.”

“Ever inspiring,” Damien quipped as they sat across from each other at a Toronto coffee shop. “Do you have a favorite Nietzsche quote for me to put on your tombstone?”

“You are quite amusing,” HG sipped her tea, “I am more of a realist than anything else.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Damien’s purple phone buzzed, forestalling HG’s reply.

“They’ve decided,” he smiled and held out the three letter text message.

HG grinned broadly.


	25. Put an ocean and a river between everything else, between everything, yourself and home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Chapter 8 of Hacienda Motel and Chapter 10 of Somewhere in London.

HG wondered if things could get any more clichéd. 

It was cold outside with a light rain that bordered on sleet. The sky was gray and gloomy, making everyone look even more miserable than they already were. A perfect setting for a funeral if ever there was one.  Coupled with the small town cemetery in Ira, Vermont she wondered if things could be any more tragic.

Not was not the time for caustic wit, she chided herself.   Damien’s funeral had been delayed until late spring thanks to many complications with the Argentinean government. They were lucky to have a service at all.

The entire team was there. Yuri in his light coat, unfazed by the weather given is Soviet upbringing. Sylvia and Raul bundled up like it was negative -30.  She wasn’t a fan of the cold but their dress was a bit excessive.

In addition to her circle, the panel from her hearing years ago was also was in attendance. The decider looking as fetching as ever in her Prada and McQueen. At another time she would have turned on all her Victorian charms to seduce the current highest power of employers.

But watching Damien, one of her truest friends in this new world being lowered into the ground dampened her ardor.  Not to mention thoughts of Myka in a Quebec hospital undergoing yet another surgery thanks to a failed _assassination_ attempt.

She needed to stay focused. Vengeance would be had. And soon.

HG looked over at Damien’s mother and father, feeling the familiar stirring of pain as a parent who’d lost a child too soon.  She observed her colleagues who displayed the type of sadness she felt but could never show.

Those types of outbursts were saved for private moments.   

She had been inconsolable when Christina had died. Nearly unable to function with Charles having to make most of the arrangements.  Even after the pain had dulled to a numbness that always accompanied her she would save two days to let the tears flow.  Wolly always knew what bench to find her on in the park she and Christina had loved.

After a century in bronze she thought herself incapable of tears until she found herself starring into Myka’s eyes in Hong Kong as her love was strapped to the deadly Chess lock.  Fear had caused her eyes to dampen as she struggled against both DeMille’s Crop and Chataranga’s brilliance.

From that point on it had been easy to push the sentimental side away, with exile by Astrolabe and the year of solo missions that nearly killed her.  Her eyes were dry when she walked away from the Warehouse four years ago.

This world, this beautiful world of well executed plans and endless financial resources was one devoid of emotions. She did take pleasure over a job well done but it never gave her the satisfaction that snagging an artifact had.

A small compromise for her freedom from the Warehouse.

Yes, Damien was a good man despite being an elite killer. She didn’t believe in God, but hoped if there was an afterlife he was comfortable.  He was also the last bridge to her old self, the old world of two separate buildings that had dominated her life for far too long. Quebec had show that she still was a danger to those she loved.

HG pulled the black pea coat tight as she watched the coffin lower into the damp ground, taking the best parts of Helena Wells with it.

 

Yuri sighed, thinking it might be time to disappear. He recalled the dreary day that Damien had been laid to rest. The small memorial they had held atop a hotel in Lisbon for Raul and the huge ceremony in San Diego for Sylvia.

Now he stood in Bromley still not quite believing that he was here.  It hadn’t been the first time the decider had made a devil’s bargain with the opposition.  The disaster of Dubai had cast a bad light and the situation had to be fixed.  The deal that Bering had brokered was without a doubt a brilliant one.

But she would pay for forcing him to kill his friend.

The service had been small as expected. HG had always kept to herself, only a handful of people were present.  There was an ancient looking woman in the back with a burgundy tweed suit that he didn’t recognize sitting with a younger red headed companion.  He made a mental note to approach the pair but they disappeared as soon as the service was over.

“You know she loved her,” HG’s long time assistant spoke at the internment.

“Who?” Yuri asked, looking over at the younger man.

“Bering.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“The letters,” he looked away from the coffin being lowered. “She wrote to her for years. Always giving me a stack to add in case she didn’t make it back from the assignment. There must be hundreds by now.”

“Are you going to send them?”

“Already did.”

Yuri took a sip of his beer in a dark corner of the Old Bell Tavern, thinking about what HG’s assistant had said.  Letters written between former lovers who because of reasons beyond their control spent their entire lives apart. Still desperately in love.

 Yes, he thought, it was definitely time to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has been along for this ride that started with Somewhere in London last year. I only hope this final chapter does this series justice. Please let me know what you think! And don't forget there's a playlist that goes with this story at http://8tracks.com/mfangeleeta/hacienda-motel


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